


Have you talked to Mick about it?

by alikatastic



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Abuse, Bipolar Ian Gallagher, Caleb is abusive - Freeform, Caleb is bad - Freeform, Forced Medication/Denied Medication, Good Brother Iggy Milkovich - Freeform, Good Fiancé Mickey, Medication Control, not a storry for Caleb lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 10:41:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29349120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alikatastic/pseuds/alikatastic
Summary: The night before the wedding Ian and Lip talk about Ian's old boyfriends. They talk about the dark days with Caleb, who was abusive. What do you do when someone has control over your entire life and your mind stabilizing drugs? Ian didn't think it mattered because it was old news, but Mickey disagreed. How does Mickey react when he finds out some man out there hurt his Gallagher in ways no one should ever be hurt?
Relationships: Ian Gallagher/Mickey Milkovich, Past Ian Gallagher/Caleb
Comments: 5
Kudos: 146





	Have you talked to Mick about it?

Lip and Ian were sitting on the stairs at the back of the house, sharing a joint.

“Mickey fucking Milkovich,” Lip said with a laugh.

“Don’t I fucking know it?” Ian took a deep drag looking up at the stars. “I used to dream of this before it all went to shit, you know? Not a wedding, really, but us being a family.”

Lip looked at his brother as if debating what to say. “I always thought you’d lose interest, especially after he went to juvie the second time. Or at least I hoped you would.”

Ian punched him. “He’s under my fucking skin.”

Neither knew the widow just above their heads was open with Mickey trying to sleep. He debated telling them to shut the fuck up, but he secretly wanted to know what Ian would say.

“Don’t I fucking know it?” Lip huffed. “Hopefully, no more dark days.”

“Fuck off, and you make it sound like a plague or something.”

“I’m just glad we don’t have to deal with that shit anymore.” Lip stomped his heel down on the wood, shifting his boot. “I don’t think I could pick up the pieces again. I got too much shit going on.”

Ian looked at Lip with wide eyes shining with betrayal. Lip sighed and looked away. “Don’t look at me like that. I know it wasn’t really your fault.”

“Not my fault, huh?” Ian stood walking down to the grass. “Whose fault would it be then?”

“I don’t want to argue with you; you’re getting married in like 12 hours.”

“Then don’t bring up stupid shit.”

Lip stood up, shuffling in the grass. “Have you talked to Mick about it?”

Ian huffed, lighting a cigarette. “There’s nothing to talk about.”

Lip shoved him gently. “Nothing to talk about? Really?” Lip scoffed. “12 weeks in the hospital and Nothing to say. Still not talking about it? You didn’t call me until you were being released.”

Mickey sat up and looked out the window. His fiancé was kicking a rock between his feet. Lip was watching him, waiting on him to say something. Lip huffed, walking back to the door.

“You won’t tell me what happened, but you should tell Mick.”

“Lip.” Ian stopped him, looking at him with sad eyes. “What am I supposed to say? Hey, Mick, while you were locked up, I needed help, and the guy who was supposed to help me kept my meds from me. And, hey, get this, if that wasn’t enough, I went into a depressive episode he’d hurt me really bad. And this one time, he thought he killed me, so he dropped me off at the ER and left me there.”

Lip looked at him, with his hand on the doorknob. “It’d be a start.”

Ian laid back in the grass, looking at the stars. He didn’t hear Mickey walk up to him and kneel over him. Mickey took the cigarette from Ian’s lips and leaned down kissed him. He replaced the cigarette between his lips and laid out next to Ian.

“In prison, I always hoped you’d visit. I hoped that it was all a nightmare that you didn’t want me.”

“I always want you, Mick.”

Mickey looked over to Ian, who was still watching the stars. “Who was it?”

“Huh?” Ian shifted, looking at Mickey.

“They fucker who hurt you. Who was it?”

“We’re getting married tomorrow. It’s not a big deal.”

“Not a big deal?” Mickey clenched his fists. “Tell me what happened. Tell me what I need…”

Ian closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He wouldn’t be able to look at Mickey when he told him how weak he was.

“I wasn’t doing the best. Everyone had their own shit going on. You were gone, locked up. I don’t know how I ended up there, but I climbed over the railing on the bridge. I was looking out at the water. I remember thinking that it was probably freezing, but it was black and inviting. I remember holding on to the railing and leaning forward. Next thing I know, I’m being pulled back over the railing.”

Mickey reached out and ran his fingers down Ian’s arm, gently gripping his fingers.

“It was a firefighter. I don’t remember it happening, but there was a wreck on the bridge, and they showed up when the car caught fire. I baked cookies. How fucking gay is that? I just wanted to thank the guy who saved me. I never found him, but I met Caleb. He was nice.” He gave a jerky shrug. “Boring, but nice... A place holder. I fucked up, though, and told him about the bipolar and my meds. After a few weeks, I started staying over at his place, so I left them there. Next thing I know, they’re missing.”

Ian opened his eyes, looking straight at Mickey. “I told him how when I’m manic, and I don’t remember all the horrible things I do. That turned out to be one of my worst decisions.” Mickey could see the slight tremor run through his body as if he could feel the consequences even now. “He said I couldn’t be trusted to take my meds correctly.” He spat, venom coated his tongue as a reminder of the betrayal. “It was okay for a few days; then I noticed they didn’t look right. When I asked him why, he said the pharmacist had a new supplier, but I was okay.” Ian couldn’t believe he had been so stupid. “Out of nowhere, things went to shit. I started losing chunks of time.” He took a calming breath. “I was terrified. The first time I had an episode, he was okay the first two days, but he was tired of it on the third day. I remember looking for my phone to call for help, but I was too weak. I hadn’t eaten or drank anything in three days. I fell trying to get to the bathroom.”

Mickey squeezed his fingers, trying to show comfort. Ian looked away with tears burning his eyes. He hated the embarrassment of it all, hated telling his fiancé he’d pissed himself.

“I crawled into the shower. When he got home, he screamed about everything, the mess, the water bill, being horny. He grabbed me by the arm and yanked me up.” Ian rubbed his arm as if the bruises were still there. “He put my face against the wall and took what he wanted from me.” Mickey could see that Ian was shaking, but he doubted it was the cold. “He turned off the water and left me there. I honestly don’t know how I made it back to bed. By the fifth day, I was practically dead. I was in and out, but I remember yelling and fists, but after he brought me Pedialyte and toast. When I could get up, I remember looking at my face and ribs and thinking, even your dad didn’t leave bruises like this. I should have left then, but he had my meds.”

Mickey sat up, pulling Ian with him. He cradled the larger man to his chest as he nearly crushed his hand. He was going to kill this Caleb fucker, but he had to keep calm now for Ian. He ran his free hand through the red hair hoping it was soothing and it would keep Ian from seeing the rage written on his face.

“I was okay for a few weeks, then it happened again. He started hitting me from day one. I don’t know how long it went on, but he had a routine. He’d get up in the morning, and…” Ian clenched his eyes closed. “He’d fuck my mouth, and I let him because I couldn’t get up the strength to fight him. He’d leave me alone all day, then at night, he’d use my body. After a few days, I couldn’t open my eyes anymore; I couldn’t even wiggle my fingers. He thought I was dead. He left me at the entrance of the ER. I was in really bad shape.”

“Tell me.” His voice was rough and wet from the tears and rage he felt burning his skin.

“Concussion. 6 broken ribs. Broken wrist. Detached retina. Dislocated elbow and shoulder. Fractured cheek and orbital bone. I was severely dehydrated, and I lost over 30 pounds. My… you know my bottom, my hole was ripped and torn, I got a bad infection.”

Mickey clenched Ian to his chest, not wanting ever to let go. He didn’t think he could ever let the man out of his sight ever again.

“I’ll fucking kill him.”

“No, Mick, you can’t.” The worry in his voice made Mickey cringe.

“No, what I can’t do is let that fucking cunt live. He can’t be up living his fucking life after what he did to you. You have to fucking know I can’t let him live.”

Ian pulled away, looking at Mickey, trying to convey how he felt. “Please, Mick, I don’t think I’d survive if you went back to prison.”

“Who the fuck said I’d get caught?”

“Please don’t take that chance. If you get caught and go back to prison, it will be for life. They will lock you up and throw away the key.”

“He raped you. You, the man I fucking love, he raped you.”

“I know, but you can’t risk prison. Please don’t leave me. We finally got shit settled. Please don’t do that to me.”

Mickey was silent for a moment as he thought about his options. “I don’t have to be the one to do it. Fuck, I still have connections.”

“It can’t come back to you. You can’t fucking leave me, okay?”

“Okay.” Mickey stood, bringing Ian with him. “Come on, fire crotch. We have a wedding in ten hours.”

Mickey was surprised by how quickly Ian fell asleep. He curled into Mickey’s side with his head on his chest, and he was snoring within minutes. Mickey took his time rubbing his hand up and down Ian’s back, as it was something he rarely did.

The sun was coming up when Mickey slipped out of the house. He called Iggy and woke him; They would meet at the abandoned building a few blocks down the road. His brother was standing next to a truck running his hands through his curly hair. Iggy scowled as Mickey walked up, looking around, making sure they were alone.

“The fuck is this about?” Iggy asked with a yawn; it was too fucking early for this.

“I need someone dead. Today.”

Iggy stood straighter; Mickey never asked for help. “Why do you need me to do it? Scared baby brother?”

Mickey scoffed, rubbing his eyes. “A man hurt Ian, hurt him bad, while I was gone.” Mickey chewed at his bottom lip. “I need him dead. I don’t care how; I need it done now. He beat and raped _My Gallagher_.”

“Fuck, man, okay.” Iggy rubbed the back of his head. “Ian’s practically family, I’ll deal with it. Just need his info.”

“Caleb Turner. He’s a Fire Fighter and lives in that building off of Dearborn. Talk to Diaz; he’ll get the details for you.”

Iggy nodded. “Consider it done.”

When Iggy wasn’t at the wedding later, Mickey knew why. Ian had asked where he was, and Mickey told him he was away on business. It wasn’t really a lie, but not the complete truth. He hated that Ian got that sad look on his face, but it was worth it. He couldn’t let that fucker live. Mickey couldn’t fight the smile that covered his face when Iggy texted him, saying it was done. He didn’t need details; he just needed the assurance.


End file.
